Goodbye, Salamander
by You can call me Jenny
Summary: "This is what happens when you lose yourself,"
1. The First Meet

It started in fourth year, their meetings, or so Hermione liked to call them because they were not really meetings, just glances and looks given to each other while passing in the corridors and small one-line conversations during the classes if they happened to be close to each other. Hermione hadn't really started them deliberately or with any intention of having any cordial relationship with Malfoy, but they just happened. From what she recalled, neither she nor Malfoy had been exactly friendly with each other, but they always seemed to have something to say to each other. Most of the times she had felt like hitting him again like in third year but she still carried on those secret rendezvous and conversations with him. She remembered how it had happened the first time..............................

It was the Yule Ball, and the bell chimes told 11'O clock. Hermione had sat down with Harry and Ron, feeling hot from dancing when Ron had started on her for 'fraternising with the enemy'. In the end she got up, frustrated, and came out of the Great Hall, and into the Entrance Hallway. A lot of girls were standing there. One of them noticed her and nudged her partner, immediately the whole group was glaring at her. She recognised them, it was the Viktor Krum fan club and these girls constantly followed him everywhere he went. As the girls started whispering to each other about Hermione, (taking care to be loud enough- 'what does he see in her?', and 'he rejected me for _her_!' and 'I don't see anything so extraordinary.') she couldn't take it. Her mind was on Ron, she had been wondering how to identify the reason behind his stupid behaviour minutes ago and whether it showed that he was jealous- of Hermione or of Victor, she didn't know that, when the girls started talking about Krum. And suddenly she remembered what Ginny had whispered to her before leaving for the ball-about the possibility of Viktor kissing her. Even thinking about kissing anyone let alone _Viktor Bloody Krum_ made Hermione blush.

Suddenly the Entrance Hallway seemed to have turned hotter, stifling. She needed air, cold air. She moved away immediately towards the entrance door, turned the fat doorknob and stepped outside. She wasn't sure that she was supposed to be out here but she could tell that there must be couples out here, in the bushes. The thought almost made her go back but she needed the cold air. It was December and she was clad in a thin, no arms floaty dress but she still walked away, eager for the coldness to engulf her, to make her alert. She walked down the stairs briskly, afraid that anyone would see her, and turned left to go behind the castle where she knew the area would be deserted because there were no bushes there. Already the cold had started affecting her; she rubbed her palms on her bare arm, breathing through her mouth. As she came to the clearing beside the tress, she sighed, the night looked spectacular. The sky was inky black with stars twinkling like diamonds. It was all quiet here, and the place suddenly seemed spiritual, soothing, as compared to the faint din of the party that she had left behind. In the distance, she could see Hagrid's hut, all black now, giving it a very medieval look as if it belonged to an ancient time. She inhaled the smell of air around her and stood by the cold wall, taking its support, finally feeling calm after the whole day.

Suddenly someone coughed; the sound came from her right, from the trees. Hermione jumped and gave a tiny shriek. Then came the sound of jumping, and she heard a boy swear.

"What the fuck!"

"Who's there?" Hermione asked. Already her wand was out and pointing at the direction from where the sound came.

"I'd like to know the same thing," said a drawling voice.

She immediately recognized his voice. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she snapped.

"Who's that?" he asked, a little more irritated. Then a beam of light fell from his wand on her, Hermione straightened her hand, ready to tackle any curse if it came sailing.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here." He said. "The Lady Mudblood herself." Hermione knew that talking to Draco _Son-of-a-bitch_ Malfoy was useless. All she'll get from him are taunts and insults. She immediately turned away to go back in the castle, knowing it was useless standing there anymore. Malfoy followed her.

"Off to your surly boyfriend?" He drawled from behind.

Hermione made no reply.

"I wonder why he chose you as his special date when he could have had dozens better."  
"Don't let him get your buttons," Hermione told herself. Her walk became brisk.

"Oh, in a hurry, are we?" He had noticed. "Why the sudden hurry, when you'd been standing there for Merlin knows how long?"

Again she made no reply, but silently climbed the steps to Entrance gate which were bathed in moonlight.

"Oh, I know, you must have been thinking how to get the answer of the clue from Potter to give Krum, right, Granger?"

Hermione turned fiercely, and skidded slightly on the cold glazed surface of the marble floor under her, and caught hold of Malfoy's neck to support her body accidently. He had been just behind her so that meant that meant that there was not much space between them. Hermione had not meant to do it, but in order to balance herself she ended up holding his neck. For a moment, Malfoy looked frightened.

The expression he had on his face was too much, she couldn't help laughing. As she laughed, Malfoy regained his manliness and pushed her away, making a disgusted face.

"How dare you touch me, Mudblood?" He said.

Unlike before, his words deeply affected Hermione. She liked to say they _affected_ her, but it actually means that Malfoy pissed her off real bad. It entered her mind, the indifferent disgust in his voice, full of malice and hatred. Her hand rose involuntarily, she didn't consciously remember making the decision, but her hand was up and she was going to slap him again, (were they making it a ritual, a slap for Malfoy from Hermione every year?) when he caught it. He looked slightly surprised at his own action for a moment but then her hand was in his vice like grip and he was twisting it.

"Ouch," Hermione said softly, and immediately regretted it because of the look of satisfaction it brought on Malfoy's face.

"Yeah, _**ouch**_." He said, twisting her hand more. Her wand dropped from her other hand as she tried to free herself from his grip. "You were going to slap me again, huh, Granger? Again? How dare you, you filthy-"

But he suddenly stopped. Hermione looked up; she had been looking down, biting down a cry that was in her throat as she tried pry Malfoy's fingers from her hand. It was then that she noticed how close they both were standing to each other; she was almost nose-to-nose with Malfoy.

The expression she saw in his eyes did not match with the action he was doing at the moment. He was looking at her so intently, so deeply, directly into her eyes, that she stopped struggling. His breath fell on her face, and just like the cold, it made her hair stand up.

Malfoy had also noticed how things had progressed and how they were practically standing there half hugging-half wrestling. He jerked his hands away from her and stepped back. He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time or as if she had changed in some way in front of him. She stared back, astonished, trying to decipher the strange look on his face.

Then he side-stepped her and opened the entrance door and walked away as of nothing that had just happened had happened. The din of the party still going on inside in the great hall hit Hermione, who had her back to the door, then the door shut back and there was silence again.

She kept standing there transfixed, whether in shock or just to give Malfoy enough time to move away so that she doesn't see him on her way back. She was not going to return to the party, let Viktor Krum go to hell. Her hand had started paining slightly and she was done for the night. She turned and stooped to pick up her wand and then slowly walked to the door and pushed her hand out to open it. She didn't need to; it was opening on its own. It was Hagrid, coming out of the party with a lost look on his face. Hermione cowered slightly, cursing her ill luck to be seen by Hagrid there, but he passed her without noticing her. It seemed like the ball hadn't gone nice for most of the people.

She shut the door after her and made her way across sleepy couples surrounding the entrance hall area. She took the stairs, holding her left hand in right, making way across girls sitting surrounding a crying girl in the middle. If she had turned back to look at the great hall's entrance, she would have seen the gray eyes that followed her till she went out of their vision.

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Author's Note: Hi! This is my first time at Dracomione fics. Please leave a review if you liked it!


	2. Stalking

Sometimes Hermione wondered what would have happened if she would have accepted Draco's invitation that night. Though she knew that she wasn't supposed to (or rather, she shouldn't) remember all those times spent with Draco Malfoy but sometimes she just sat down and thought, really thought (and in a deep corner of her heart, resented) what exactly had made her refuse Draco. He was all for it, she knew it, he was all for it even after two long years. And she had been expecting it from him because she had always been able to tell his needs, his wants, _his thoughts_, just from the expressions on his face. When she used to see him in the corridors of the ministry during the years she was getting her higher education in Magical Law, she could see that he wanted to resume the relationship they had once had, she could see the mute plea the silver eyes said, that he wanted to be at least on talking terms with her. One part of her had felt like going out to him again, lending him an ear, a shoulder to lean on, just like she had done in school, but the times had changed. She was being hailed as the superwoman of the Golden Trio, and his and his family's reputation had just been washed off. She wasn't being a hypocrite, god knows she never cared for the Malfoy family reputation; she wasn't influenced by things like that. But the divide between the Malfoys and the side to which she belonged had been recently highlighted. She belonged to the Light Side, _She wore the_ _Golden Halo,_ according to a Daily Prophet reporter whereas _he_ had become the washed up death-eater, the one being subjected to the integrated hate of the whole of wizarding people. They were too long gone now; they couldn't sneak from their friends and meet in secret annexes anymore, they had to accept what they should've accepted years ago: their friendship was just wasn't meant to be.

Before she retired to bed that night of the Yule ball, she wrapped a woollen muffler on the arm which Malfoy had twisted. She cursed him inwardly and laid down, alone in her dorm as all the girls were still down at the ball. For a moment she felt like going to the Gryffindor boys' dorm to meet Harry and Ron- but Ron would be there and she really didn't want to see him right then, right away after they'd had a fight. She'd come up in the common room, clutching her arm, and a few minutes later Ron was there minus Harry and looking like he wanted to take off right where she had left him. During the whole heated conversation she had just hated him, completely. She hated him for being so pissed at her for going to the ball with Viktor Krum, she hated him for standing there the whole time, shouting 'fraternising with the enemy' shit, she hated him for not seeing that she was clutching her arm in a way which clearly told(according to her) that it was hurt.

But no, Ron the Moron had to be stupid, that was his defining characteristic. And it was not just him who was so proficient at being moronic, it was Harry too. Even he hadn't noticed her clutched arm. She sighed as she shifted in her bed, why did she expect so much of Harry when she didn't from Ron? After all, he was also just a boy. _With more intelligence capability_, she thought. As she thought of intelligence, she also thought of why she hadn't just jinxed Malfoy when he caught her arm. Why hadn't she just done some charm to keep his hand off? Sometimes, Hermione thought, my muggle habits get the better of me. And then she thought of what Malfoy had done. Why was he staring at her? And continuously at that. And then he had abruptly left her hand and walked away as if suddenly embarrassed at something that he had done.

Just then, the dormitory door opened and Partvati and Lavender burst in, both giggling. "The Durmstrang boy was so nice, and Harry was such a prat." Parvati seemed to be saying. "Wonder how did Hermione's go?" Lavender's voice said.

Hermione clamped her eyes shut under her poster bed curtains. Quite rightly, Lavender drew apart a little of one of the curtains and peaked in. "She's here, sleeping. If she's already sleeping, then it means that it didn't go well." She said. Hermione noted that she sounded jealous.

"How did Krum meet her anyway?" asked Parvati. "She isn't even a quidditch fan."

It took them quite a lot of time to shut up, but Hermione kept lying there with her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep and soon sleep claimed her.

The next time that she met Malfoy was at Thursday's potions class. It wasn't a meeting exactly, because she had been made by the Great Potions Master, Severus Sodding Snape, to sit away from Harry and Ron to sit with Pansy Parkinson across the room who happened to be sharing a seat with Malfoy. As she picked up her bag and made her way to Parkinson's seat, she noticed two things: the scowl on Parkinson's face and the sudden completely interested look that Malfoy had started giving his potions book determinedly. She sat down beside Parkinson, seating herself at some distance but still felt her scoot away as if Hermione was something smelly. During the whole class as Snape taught he kept looking in her direction as if checking whether she was still there. And then Hermione understood: he must be looking at Malfoy. Why, though, she thought curiously. When Snape's glances persisted, Hermione thought of chancing a glance at Malfoy. But that would've meant that she would have to lean forward in her seat and turn her head in Malfoy's direction which would make her intention very obvious to the Slytherins sitting with and around her, if not clear. At this point of time Snape ordered the class to write down what he had just taught them. As Hermione took out a scroll and a quill form her bag she realised that she had left her inkpot with Harry. Great. This meant that now she would have to ask Snape's permission to get it, giving him another perfect excuse to deduct points from Gryffindor not to mention humiliate her and possibly Harry too. Sighing inwardly, she put up her hand. She had no choice. Immediately, Snape's eyes swivelled to her face.

"Yes, Ms Granger?" As she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed that half the class' attention was now fixed on her. Harry was completely looking back, his torso turned towards her.

"I would like to take my inkpot from Harry, sir."

"And why would you like that, Ms Granger?"

"Because I don't have it with me, sir."

"And why are you without your inkpot?"

"Because Harry has it, sir."

Half the class burst out laughing, (okay, all the gryffindors) and then immediately shut up at the look Snape gave them. Hermione had not meant to be cheeky, but the words had slipped out of her mouth before she could think. Snape was looking a little pissed, but that surprisingly gave her a slight sardonic pleasure.

"Finally taking on the Gryffindor qualities, Ms Granger?" He said. "Not a big surprise, considering your elegant company." He taunted, his eyes lingering on Ron. Parkinson chuckled.

"May I take my inkpot, sir?" Hermione asked again.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor." He snapped. Behind his back, an inkpot elevated itself from Harry's desk and floated itself towards Hermione. She had not been expecting Snape to do that, she had been thinking she'll _accio_ the inkpot. It came towards her, but did not quite reach her and stayed in the air, hovering. As it hovered above her, she reached out for it, but it suddenly shot out of her range.

"Stand up and get it Ms Granger," Snape ordered. Of course, this had been Snape's real intention, to mock her like that.

Hermione stood up. Even then it was not near her. The inkpot still hovered away from her, so much that she had to stretch her hand to take it. As her hands clamped around its cold surface, she noticed that Malfoy was looking at her hand. Then she got why: it was her left hand, the one which he had twisted the night of the ball, and which now showed a bandage on it. Nobody had noticed it because she wore long sleeves because of the weather. But as she had stretched her hand towards the inkpot, the woollen bandage had started to show. She immediately jerked her sleeve straight, hiding the bandage again. And then almost involuntarily, her eyes met Draco's. He had also been looking at her. But as soon as she looked, he looked down. Her hand still at her sleeve, Hermione sat down.

From that day on, Hermione started to feel a little uneasy around Malfoy. Not that she was around him much, but whenever she was, she would avert her eyes. Maybe because Malfoy had taken upon himself to stare at her or her hand whenever he passed her in halls or during classes. The next time she saw him was on the snow covered grounds for their Care of Magical Creatures class. As harry, Ron and she approached the place near Hagrid's hut where he usually took their lessons, she saw that Malfoy was already standing there, flanked with those thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. He had been speaking, but as he saw her approach, he stopped. And then his eyes dropped to her hand, and then up at her face. She looked away, silently wishing that this Malfoy-staring-at-her everytime-he-sees-her-thing was completely her imagination. Thankfully the boys were not paying attention as Professor Grubbly-Plank had just came into their view, announcing that she'll be teaching instead of Hagrid today.

But that was not the only time he stared at her. During supper that very date, she had been looking at the back of Viktor Krum's head as he sat at the Slytherin table, thinking about whether he really deserved the fanatic status he had. Hermione had found him sweet, he was eager to please her and get in her good books, to know about her and he was impressed with her, in other words, completely smitten. Hermione dropped her eyes to her plate, her cheeks going red. When she looked up again, he had stood up and gone as per his habit to leave as soon as his dinner was finished. As he left and cleared the view, Hermione's eyes straight met Draco Malfoy's. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly; as she realized with a panic that he had the same expression on his face, that same deep, unfathomable expression. It was there for a moment, and then he looked away. Hermione also dropped her eyes hastily; her heart beating a lot faster than usual. For a split second, she thought of telling Ron and Harry about it-but the idea itself was enough to get her back her senses. Malfoy is just looking; she reasoned to herself, he isn't doing anything threatening. And besides, what would she tell the boys? That Malfoy is staring at her? She took a deep breath to calm herself; Malfoy had just become a little fascina- she could not even bring herself to complete the thought. Whatever weird _phase_, Malfoy was going through, would pass, she told herself. And then Harry turned to her, (he had been staying quite silent these days) and asked her something. Hermione was so preoccupied about Malfoy acting creepy that she didn't hear him the first time. He had to repeat his question twice for her to hear it right.

The next day, as she left for her arithmancy class after lunch usually early than she did, because she had to understand a concept which she had found in a library book from Professor Vector. After a few minutes, she realized someone was there in the lonely yard (which she passed daily for her arithmancy class). She looked back and saw a blond boy in green robes. Shit. It was Malfoy.

Her heart beat quickened and she started to walk faster, feeling a strange kind of thrilling fear. A few minutes later, as she was taking the stairs, she looked down, and again saw Malfoy. This time he tried to hide himself. Losing all control, Hermione took off her shoes and ran. She ran so fast and without any clue as to where she was going, she just wanted to get away from Malfoy. Somehow she emerged on the floor which had Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and Hermione made a beeline for it. She did not know why she was afraid of what Draco might do, maybe he was just going some other way and she jumped to the conclusion that he was following her. But anyway, Hermione burst into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (thankfully, she was not there) and shut herself up in a cubicle. She kept sitting there, holding her wand, with her sock getting wet from the water on the floor, till she was absolutely sure that she had heard the sound of the bell ringing and the hustle-bustle of the crowd. Even then, she checked the crowd before she stepped out.

The next day was a holiday. She spent some time with Viktor , he seemed very eager to meet her on the snow-clad grounds. They sat down on a bench and Viktor started talking excitedly. After talking to her for a while, he suddenly said-

"Yoo look exactly the way I thought you vood."

"What?" said Hermione. He was looking at her with an intense expression, kind of demanding.

"Against the snow, you look exactly the vay I pictured you vood look."

Hermione could only gape in reply before he leaned in.

Later, as she left for the castle, she thought about what he had said. It had been a very abstract kind of compliment (or rather a comment) to give to a girl. But he came from a country where winters were dominant, and it kind of made of sense for him to wish to see her against the snow. "Oh, the colour of your cheek," He had laughed as he had pulled away after they had kissed. Hermione's face went hot again as she opened the door of the entrance hall. Her stomach lurched at the thought of telling Ginny about it. How would she do it? Or maybe she won't. But Ginny had told her all about her first crush and the date she'd just had with him. And Hermione had promised- a sudden noise behind her broke her reverie, and she looked behind to see.

It was Malfoy. Again.

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AN: Hey! How's the new chapter? I would love it you will tell me what you think! Ciao


	3. And so it started

This time though, Hermione didn't panic. Instead, she just stopped walking and drew to one side of the staircase, took out her wand, pushed it inside her sleeve, and crossing her arms, leaned against the staircase. Malfoy was sure to come this way, and if he was not following her, he'll just sneer and pass; if not, then she'll see.

As she had thought, Malfoy did come up after her a minute later. He looked around searchingly before he noticed her standing there. She was not looking at him, she was looking at her shoe, but she was still watching. He had stopped, and he was again staring at her, this time at her head.

"What, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped.

"What, Granger?" He said back, matching her sharpness.

"What are you doing here?" She asked angrily.

"What are **you** doing here?"He asked back.

"I'm waiting for Viktor Krum!" Hermione said, sneering.

"Yeah well, I'm waiting for Potter!"

"What?" Hermione said blankly.

Malfoy himself looked shocked at what had come out of his mouth. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Suddenly, he turned and started running down the stairs.

"Hey!" Hermione yelled and went after him. He was at the foot of the stairs when they broke off, leaving him no choice but to stay. As Hermione stopped after him, the stairs they were standing on also broke off, and Malfoy turned to her resentfully.

"Why are you here?" She asked. She had, of course, understood that he was not waiting for Potter or anyone else really, and what he had said had been a slip of tongue. It was written on his face.

"None of your business." He snapped. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy....." She started, but then he burst.

"Fine! I came after you!"

"And why, may I ask?"

At this point the stairs attached themselves to another, forming an exit for Malfoy. He quickly seized the opportunity and walked up, and Hermione thought that she will not get her answer, and neither will she ever meet him again like this. She was so wrong.

Malfoy did leave that day hurriedly without giving even one insulting comment to Hermione, and though he _did_ not answer her question, but that was not the end of it. From that day onwards, whenever Hermione saw him again, it was she who staring at him now, analysing him, guessing his feelings from the expressions on his face. He, on the other hand, first got flushed to see her looking at him (Hermione kind of enjoyed that), then started giving her his regular sneers and then altogether learned to ignore her. But soon even that went away. By the time Harry had completed his second task for Triwizard competition, Hermione and Malfoy had settled down to a silent pact of friendship, it was a pact because it had been enforced by both the sides, but there was nothing exactly friendly about it, it was more like that they (mostly Malfoy) grew more tolerant towards each other. Hermione remembered how he used to give her those silent nods of recognition whenever they used to pass each other in the school corridors; sometimes it was just a stare. From Hermione's side it was nothing more than sidelong looks and glances while passing and once, a smile. It had been a very small one, and Malfoy had avoided her for at least a week after that while Hermione had wondered whether she had done anything wrong in trying to be civil. And then again, Malfoy had tracked her down.

It hadn't been exactly tracking her down, more like following her into the library, but he had done that and they had had their first actual meet. She still remembered it; she had been pre-occupied in searching defensive charms for Harry and had not really noticed him walking silently behind her till they had reached the library. Then she had straight-away headed for the deeper section of the shelves where not many people ventured. "If he was following me, then he'll follow me still." When she had turned around after drawing a chair for herself, she had found him looking surprised.

"You knew I was there?" He asked.

She looked at him coolly. "Of course, Malfoy, I'm not lost in the head."

His tone changed. "You looked like you were." Which was probably the truth.

"What is it?" She asked, coming straight to the point. "What d'you want?"

He looked surprised at her question. "Noth-nothing." He said.

"Nothing?" Hermione repeated.

"I mean, nothing relevant, actually." He amended, regaining the confidence in his voice.

"So what is it, of irrelevance?" Hermione asked. Why exactly had he followed her here?

He was looking pissed at himself, as if regretting his situation. "I haven't exactly got the whole day for you, Malfoy, so if you'll please-"

"I just wanted to ask, how's your hand?" He interrupted.

"My hand?" Hermione asked. _The one you had twisted?_ She thought. He made no movement of confirmation.

"It's fine." She said, wondering why he was suddenly asking this after months. But at least he had had the curtsey, she thought, and coming from Slytherins, that's a lot.

"Its fine," she repeated again, holding it up now. His eyes travelled to it once, then flicked back to her face. They remained like that for the next few moments, Hermione's left hand before her face, and Malfoy staring into her eyes. Then he turned and left without another word, and Hermione let her hand down. She watched him walk away, and then with a sigh stood up to search for books.

Now all these years later Hermione thought more and more about Draco Malfoy as the date of her marriage to Ron inched nearer. As she and Ginny shopped for the best white cloth for her veil, there was a corner of her mind thinking about Draco, constantly, and then as the days passed, with a certain ache. This greatly worried Hermione for she never liked to be uncertain of things and even the thought that she was uncertain (about what, she dared not ask herself) panicked her enough to reduce her to tears and she had to leave her apartment in the middle of the night to flee to her parent's. She had desperately needed her mother's bony hands on her back spreading warmth to her skin as she sat at the kitchen table holding a hot cup of cocoa. Her father termed it bridal jitters with an air of dislike to anything relating the word _bride_ to his daughter. Her parents had become possessive of her to an extent since she sought them out in Australia after the war ended, even though they didn't remember at all that they'd ever been bereaved from their daughter. But Hermione was immune to their likes and dislikes at the moment, she was too immersed in herself to even register her father's displeasure at the thought of his daughter getting married.

She retired to her former room to take a bath before leaving for her apartment the next morning. She rummaged through the cupboard that she had once used and which now kept her old muggle clothing. There was nothing that fit her anymore from those clothes. In the end she pulled out a sweatshirt that belonged to her father and was two sizes bigger for her. She pulled out a pyjama (the only thing loose enough at the waist) of hers which she had last worn when she was in fifth year of Hogwarts. She quickly changed and went down to breakfast; she really needed to hurry, for today was the day when she and Ron made their engagement officially known to the wizarding world. The thought made her stomach lurch. She hurriedly ate and left giving the 'getting late' excuse to her parents. She looked one last time before disapparating; her parents were standing at the arch in their drawing room with a slightly mournful expression on their faces.

As soon as she apparated in front of her house, she wished she hadn't. A large group of journalists were standing outside her house with Ron between them, with a slightly harried look on his face. There seemed to be a lot of noise as a lot of journalists seemed to be speaking at the same time and Ron was trying to quieten them, but his voice was not loud enough. Hermione thought of Apparating back unnoticed by anyone, but at the same time a photographer turned towards her. _Shoot_, Hermione thought as the whole group turned towards and several people cried out-_There's the bride!_

Ron looked at her and his eyebrows rose. Beside him, Hermione vaguely noticed as the journalists ran towards her in a large, alarming herd, Harry stood with his mouth slightly open. Both men looked dumbfounded at her appearance. Hermione suppressed a giggle.

"Are you marrying Ronald Weasely?" a young journalist shouted at her. Several others shouted the same.

"Yes," She said, smiling at the whole stupidity of the situation.

"When?"

"Soon, I think."

By now Ron had squeezed his way in through the crowd of reporters and took her hand.

"Why are you wearing such tight muggle pants?" He whispered. She somehow heard him and smiled.

"Pyjamas, not pants." She said, again suppressing a giggle. He looked at her, not able to understand what was funny.

"How did he propose?" Some woman asked loudly.

"He didn't," The words were out her mouth before she could think. The people around them chuckled.

"Then did you propose?"A man standing in the front asked.

"Yes, but it was more of a threat." Hermione said to general laughter. "I said to him, either you marry me or else......"

Ron was looking at her in shock. She laughed as she met his eyes. "What're you doing?" He asked. "Just having some fun,"

"What is this dress?" Someone asked. "Is it muggle?"

"Yes," She said, nodding.

"Where will you marry? What will you wear?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but Ron beat her to it.

"We haven't got to that part yet," He said hastily. "We have just decided to get married."

Hermione gave him a sly smile.

"Kiss her!" Someone shouted. Ron's eyes me her with a hint of apprehension, but Hermione was already standing on her toes, her mouth angled towards him. As her arms came around his neck, he had no other option but to succumb. Smiling, Ron also took her waist and stooped down. The crowd around them literally went mad as their lips met.

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AN: Hi! I guess you're wondering where I'm taking this. That's my style, i like to take the past and present together. You're in for a surprise. For those expecting smut or fluff or any kkind of Mills&Boons romance between the Hermione&Draco of this story, sorry. This will have a very, very realistic lenght and will happen as the events in the books took place. I don't have any thought of changing the hp7 ending, but if you're able to pursuade me, I might. One more thing, please, please, please, leave a review. It totally helps in boosting my morale.


	4. Twist of Fate

He woke up in the night, as suddenly as if someone had shouted in his ear. But there was no one there, except the figure lying next to him. He recoiled as he felt the warmth from the body, but then remembered it was the girl mother had set him a blind date with. She had long black hair, now strewn across the silk pillow under her. He checked under the sheets, she was not clothed, and neither was he. How come she landed here? He thought as he turned away from her. For the past four years, he had never had a single relationship which went longer than three weeks, a month at maximum. And frankly speaking, he had never felt like it. His mother seemed to think that he was in love with Pansy Parkinson who went out with him in his seventh year, though it wasn't exactly 'going out' when all they did was snog in his dormitory in their free classes. Since the time mother had attended Pansy's wedding in the summer this year, she had turned fanatic about getting him married. Though, he thought, father's death had also contributed. His father had been found dead in his bed one morning when he didn't wake up. Mother had been devastated, but she had pulled herself together and moved on. For my sake? He thought.

The body beside him moved. A hand came from behind and rested on his waist. He waited for some moments, and then pushed it away. When the girl made a sound of protest in her sleep, he threw the covers off, and walked away in disgust.

It's not like he didn't want it, the relationship, the love, and he had tried too, on his own. After his trials were over, he had gone out with Daphne Greengrass, his former classmate. But Daphne understood him sooner than he did, and broke it off with "Maybe some other time, Draco." There had never been an 'other time'. The last he had heard, she was going to marry Blaise Zabini this fall, i.e.: in two months. He had not seen her in years. That was the last time he had actually tried to be in a relationship. Since then, something had come off, it wasn't Daphne, he knew that, but what was it? He never felt anything for a woman other than lust and not even that completely; it was just want which momentarily compelled him. If it was not that, then he would simply just start living to work, and even work too, bored him. There was nothing wrong with him, at least not something at which you can put a finger, but there was something wrong with him, colossally. He did not like people's company after some time, it felt like noise. He had abandoned Goyle after the war as had to happen, seeing that Goyle had so many accusations of assisting the Carrows in torturing the students at Hogwarts. And after his own trials had ended, nobody had wanted to be his friend, except the people he had known from school: Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne. Pansy had tried to revive their old relationship after Daphne had broken off with him, but he had already lost it by then. He didn't admit it to himself, but he had changed, drastically.

After all that, he took a training of nine months under Perry Hart, the second-in-command of the Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, and started his job as a young intern in the field of rescue work. His father had been famous, and subsequently, Draco's trials had made him famous too, and coupled with his looks and ash-blond hair, Daily Prophet had made him the famous sexy deatheater or something like that. His sullen attitude had added to the image. Since then, the media had followed his every move. But Draco, who had always been jealous of Harry Potter sharing the limelight, had stopped caring. He didn't care whether he had the best or worst or the easiest job in the world (as long as he had one), he didn't care whether he had a girl on his arm or not, he didn't care whether his friends got married or ran away, or died in crater somewhere on the earth.

He blamed the war. Everybody blamed the war for everything that had gone wrong, and so did he. His father had thought that he had become like that because of his loss of prestige at the trials. His mother thought he was in love Pansy. Draco had laughed at the idea.

He had become exactly the opposite of what he had thought he will be, and that was scary enough. It was scary because it meant that he was losing control. The fact that he cannot bring himself around to enjoy a sunny day with friends or come home to some woman who has waited for him the whole day and will receive him with a hug, (though his mother had done that once but that doesn't count) that he does not like his job and does not even give a shit about that, that he does not care how he looks, or how people perceive him, or whether his hair are tidy or if he wants to eat or what he wants to eat, his mother, his mother's health, his father's last words......

"Draco?" A voice came.

He broke from his reverie and turned back to see the girl he had slept with standing under at doorframe of his balcony-was he in the balcony? He hadn't realized he had come out in the balcony.

"What?" He said, looking into her face intently. Her name was Ellen, or Ella or something like that, he remembered. She worked at St. Mungo's in the psychiatric ward. She was standing behind the door, shielding herself, wearing his bathrobe, he noticed.

"It's cold," She said.

"That's what you have woken up to tell me?" He asked.

The girl stared at him. "No, Draco, its-its four in the morning and you're standing out there in the cold-**naked**!"

_What?_

He hadn't realised that he was naked. No wonder he didn't feel so great at the moment.

The girl had come out now and put a hand on his shoulder. She looked concerned.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you." He took her hand off. "Lets go in."

She followed him in with an uncertain expression on her face.

"Draco," She started as he shut the balcony door.

"What?" He said, rather sharply.

She had halted at the sharpness in his voice. "Is there anything that you'd like to tell me?"

"Like what?" He said and turned away from her. She followed him into his bedroom.

"Anything." She said. "Is there something that's troubling you, because you can tell me anythin-"

"Your psychiatric crap may have worked in melting my mother's heart, Ella," He snapped. "But I'm not your patient. If I needed to see a shrink, I'll go see one."

Her eyes had narrowed, and she stood in front of him with her arms crossed. After he had done speaking, she spoke.

"Elda." She said. He stared at her for a second, confused. Then he realised that she was telling him her name. He started to speak, realising that he may have hurt her, (though not because he cared for her feelings but because he didn't want a lecture from his mother), but she was already pulling her under-shirt over her arm. He stood there watching her svelte figure stoop and pick up clothes from a pile beside his bed. Then as he approached her, really feeling guilty for being a jerk, she turned around.

"I had a nice time tonight." She said, surprising him. He had not been expecting these words after he had literally insulted her.

"Um, I'm-"

"You have a nice choice, you know," She continued, walking away from him to pick up her cloak which lay sprawled in his sitting room floor. "Of restaurants and wine. You really know your heavy drinks." He felt slightly awkward as he watched her get fully dressed while he stood stark naked. As she came back into the room, he hastily picked up his bath robe which she had left on his bed.

"But you need to wind up." She said.

"What?" He said, fumbling with his bath-robe. "Uh-Ella-Elda," She held his gaze questioningly.

"Forgive me, for- for before-"

"It was nice meeting you, Draco Malfoy." She said, ignoring what he had just said. He shook her hand numbly, feeling very insulted. "Hope we have more of these times."

The next morning he woke up, feeling confused at why he was sleeping wearing his bath robe, then he remembered last night, and sank into his pillows exhaustedly at the memory. Life was becoming a drab for him. He was doing things just because he had to, and was supposed to. Though when he thought about it as he stood under the shower some minutes later, he thought that that is all he had been doing all along, the whole of his life. He had been doing things, being the way he had been, just because he had to, because he was _supposed_ to. All those acts, the muggle hating drive within him, his actions, they had all happened because he had done what he had perceived he _should_ do. What he had really _wanted _hadn't mattered then because he hadn't really known what to want. His actions had just been a weak mimicry of what people around him wanted him to be like.

Now? What about now? What about today? Does he know now?

He turned to the wall urgently; his hands eager for the cold surface as hotness surged through his body and accumulated in his loin. Of course he knew what he wanted. He licked his lips, trying to control the feeling gaining strength inside him. But it was no use anyway, however hard he tried. He had tried to resist it before too, but he always succumbed to it, because it was pointless. He didn't have the strength. Or maybe the desire was too strong. A small pant escaped from his lips.

Hermione. He wanted Hermione Granger.

Badly. So badly that it felt like pain. The pain intensified as her picture appeared in his mind, of her tousled hair, her pink cheeks, swollen lips.........

His cock rose at the image in his mind as if following silent orders. His lips opened in a mute cry and eyes clamped shut. He tried to ignore his pulsating member, but as its throbbing became unbearable, he took it in his hand.

What could anyone do in his position? Or rather his predicament? He could not have her beside him; he could not touch _her_, but the least he was allowed, was to touch himself.

He reached the ministry in a bad mood, which was regular. So nobody paid attention to the half-scowl on his face as he entered his department, hands deep in his robe pockets. The Daily Prophet had branded it the 'Malfoy walk' in his days of trial from the pictures taken of him whenever he used to come out of the trial rooms. Draco reached his office and shut the door behind, wishing the new interns who were waiting for him outside his office, to be gone. He did not want to see anyone. He felt like disappearing away to some distant island whose name people could not even pronounce. He sat down in his chair and swivelled to face the wall, his empty grey wall, and put up his elbows on the chair arms, and closed his eyes.

A moment later, a memo came in flying for him through the fire-grate. He snatched it bad-temperedly, inwardly cursing the person who had sent it.

It was from Perry Hart, his boss. He was asking him to come meet him on the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Why the hell, Draco thought before throwing floo powder into the grate and stepping into the flames.

He saw the pudgy behind of Hart's neck as he appeared in the grate. He stepped out, dusting his robe and wished the man his boss was sitting opposite, Diamond Brusly, the head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Goodmornin' Mr. Malfoy." He replied, gesturing for him to take a seat. "How are you taking to the job?" He asked.

You're asking two years late, Draco thought. "Very well, sir."

"Mr. Hart here tell me that you are going to receive a promotion," said Brusly. Draco looked at Hart. "I was going to tell you today," He said.

"First of all I must congratulate you, young man,-"

"Thank you sir,"

"-you must have done a really great job, becoming the Head of a department within two year of joining is a really big thing-"

"What?" said Draco. "I'm becoming the- what about you?" He turned to Perry Hart. He smiled.

"I have been promoted too, I'll be joining the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as its Head."

Before he could himself, Draco had spoken. "What about Hermione Granger?"

Brusly laughed. "That's the reason we have called you today, actually-"

His heart started thudding.

"The thing is, Hermione Granger had applied to join _this_ department six months back, right after she successfully won that Betty elf case," Brusly said. "And she passed the exam too, I don't how she does it, she is so good at _everything_!" Brusly looked giddy with praise. Then he controlled himself.

"Anyway, she has joined my department, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Hart will be joining the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures from tomorrow while you have become the Head of Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, today. Congratulations.

"I called you here today because of the Marilou Belinda Baker Case, you know the one where the squib woman is accused of killing her half-blood magical son? You will be jointly assisting it."

At that point, there came a knock. Draco stiffened, anticipating who it must be.

"Come in!" Brusly called.

The door opened to reveal a bushy haired woman, slightly red in the cheeks, standing at the door holding a folder to her chest. Immediately, Draco lost thread of what was being said, his eyes drew to the lips that uttered something to Brusly, the wide brown eyes, and the lovely colour in the cheeks-

"Ms Granger, I'm hoping you have met Mr Malfoy here?"

Ms Granger's eyes looked at him in surprise, she had noticed him, then the surprise was gone, and she was wishing him a good morning.

Draco, not being able to speak anything, barely nodded.

"Well, Ms Granger, you will be working with Mr Malfoy for the Belinda Baker case, he has just joined as the Head of Department of Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, and he will be helping you on the case."

"Oh really?" She said. Draco noticed the slightly high pitch, but welcomed it, it was the first time in years she was speaking to him. "Congratulations, Mr-Mr Malfoy."

Draco felt like telling her that he had wanked at her thought in the morning. He felt like getting up and grabbing her in his arms. He thought of that evening in sixth when he had kissed her, how she had responded, how her breath had sounded as he had taken her shirt off.........

"Thank you, Ms Granger." He replied.

* * *

AN: I have never updated so fast. This chapter was lying in my head, itching to get out. So here, it is. This is the present of the story of which we'll be seeing more of. One more thing, Hermione would be _slightly_ different than the one in book. Though I did not set out to do it intentionally, but she is like me, she has all my defining charecteristics. And for all those who read this, please, please, would you just review? I mean honestly guys! Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top? You can do wonder by doing that, you will raise my self esteem. Think about it, you'll be doing a noble job.


	5. Goran

"I cannot believe it," Ginny said, staring at the front page of Daily Prophet.

"Imagine the surprise when she turns up late in a funny looking dress and starts talking as if she's drunk." said Ron.

"It looks funny to you only because its muggle!" Hermione said.

"No, Hermione, it **is** a funny dress." Harry said, smiling. "What made you do all that?"

Hermione sighed in irritation. It was a Sunday and they were sitting in the Potter's living room, having a brunch. And they were all, one by one, expressing their horror at Hermione's behaviour with the reporters. Yesterday night, she had gone back home and asked her mother about it, and her mother had admitted that she had given her a couple of sedatives.

"I told you guys, it wasn't me, it was the valium."

"Oh!" Harry made a sympathetic face. "That explains why you slept afterwards."

"What is valium?" Ginny asked, putting the pair down in disgust. She had been doing that a lot these days. She was disgusted with the milk, disgusted with the mornings, disgusted about eating anything which wasn't sweet, disgusted with the flowers Harry used to get her, disgusted with the diagon alley even, when Hermione went to shop with her recently. She had turned into this easily disgusted person since the last two months, when her belly began to get big. And she complained to Hermione about having gotten married to a wimp who couldn't 'get it up to point north' for her whenever she wanted. And that was most of the time too. Hermione had listened sympathetically, but she had blanched inside at the thought of Harry and Ginny doing it.

"It's a pill." Hermione said.

"What kind of pill?" Ginny asked, interested.

"It makes you sleepy," Hermione said hastily, before Ginny could get any ideas.

"And stupid," Ron muttered absently. Hermione threw a cushion at him.

"Oh," Ginny said disgustedly. "Isn't it too hot in here?" she asked, opening the first few buttons of her frock. Everybody ignored it, except Harry who looked at Ginny furtively before speaking to Hermione.

"Brusly told me, congrats."

"What?" Ron asked, straightening up.

"I got the job," Hermione told him.

"When?" He cried.

"Brusly owled me yesterday night," Hermione said. Ron's jaw dropped.

"And you didn't tell me!" Ron said accusingly. "I was there! I came last night! Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione's cheek grew pink. Though she and Ron had been going out for the last three years, they were not living together. After she had got her parents back from Australia, she started living with them after she completed her seventh year. Then she had got the job at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Meanwhile, Ron had started working with George at the joke shop and it wasn't till she was six months into her job that they did it. It was in the room above the joke shop and George had almost come up the stairs, calling for Ron. And since then, Hermione had tried to spend some 'time' with him every day before she went home to her parents. Then she had had an accidental sleepover one Saturday when she was too drunk to remember that she had to get home before eleven, and when she **had** gone home the next morning, there was her father, waiting for her in the living room as if she a sixteen year old teen. She hadn't liked it, and told it to him to his face and then she was being branded a loafer, she was destroying herself, and when she retaliated, _she was whoring all over London_, and she was _second hand good_ and it was time for her to get _alternate accommodation_. And after she had, had come the question of whether Ron would move in, but then Ginny found out that she was pregnant with Harry and Mr Weasley, even though he liked Harry, had thrown a big drama and refused to talk to his daughter till Harry sucked up some courage and went to him asking his daughter's hand. It had been slightly beside the point then, when Ginny, trying to hide her baby bump with all that lace on her white gown, had married Harry. It was either she and Ron get married, or nothing. And Hermione was not willing to get married.

"Where is James?" Ginny asked, turning her torso to Harry. From the view that Hermione got of Ginny's freckled chest, when she turned towards Harry and her, was very, um, arousing. Not for Hermione, obviously, but the effect it had on Harry, she understood, was what Ginny had been hoping for.

"Um," He gulped once. "In- in the garden, I think,"

"In the garden?" Ginny said, her voice going slightly husky. "Can you go check on him for me, Harry?"

Behind her back, Ron was looking at his sister with a concerned expression, and before Hermione could catch his eyes and imply 'let's go,' he had spoken.

"Ginny, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ginny answered, smiling lazily at Harry. "Just feeling a little hot, that's all."

Harry and Hermione got up at the same time.

"I'll go check on James," Harry mumbled.

"Let's go, Ron." Hermione said.

The next day in the evening, Hermione lay in bed, naked, watching Ron dress. As she watched him move around her bedroom picking up his belonging, speaking to her at the same time, she thought about where her life had leaded her. She was going to marry this man in a few months time, and will surely, in the near future give birth to his children. How it can be possible, Hermione thought, watching Ron check his reflection in the mirror, that she was marrying _this_ man of all? He didn't get her sometimes, in fact most of the times, didn't seem to have her zeal, he wasn't ambitious like her, and he was content with just being a shopkeeper. Once Hermione had wondered what kind of a man she would have really liked, it would've been someone who understood her, got her moods just by walking into the room, got her jokes, and Ron had never done that. The only man who had been able to do all that was Harry, but, no, he wasn't the only, there was Malfoy too....

Hermione jerked her attention to what Ron was saying to her, she didn't want to think about Malfoy. Ron was sitting on the bed, whispering something, Hermione heard a soft "I love you," before he leaned in towards her for a kiss. She responded eagerly, again feeling liking getting him naked but he pulled away as the kiss began to get passionate.

"Merlin," He gasped.

She just looked at him, then leaned forward again. He pulled back again after a few moments, laughing.

"I should just move in with you," He said, getting up, smiling.

_If you did, I'll have to move out_, Hermione thought and then immediately, _where did that come_ _from?_

Ron threw her a t-shirt from the floor. "Dress up, we'll go down."

"Why?"

"I'm hungry, come on."

"I'm not cooking anything for you," Hermione said point-blank. "I have to start my report on that Belinda Baker case."

Ron, who had started frowning when Hermione had refused, exclaimed suddenly. "Oh! Hermione, Harry told me that you're assigned to work with Malfoy on this case."

"Yeah," Hermione said, pulling the t-shirt on. "Diamond Brusly assigned him, because he's become the head of-"

"-Magical Calamities and Rescue Work, I know," Ron said. "But why him, I mean why not Hart?"

"Hart became the Head of Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and he hadn't prepared the report on the case six months back. Come on, I'll fix you something to eat."

"Why don't you say something?" Ron said, following her down to the kitchen. "Why don't you refuse? Can't somebody else do the job?"

"It's my working place, Ron, and besides, I'm just starting out in the department. I'll have to work on whatever they assign me to. And why are you taking it like this?"

"Like what?"

"Why are you getting so defensive about it? I don't think working with Malfoy would be so bad."

Ron stared at her as she pulled out a pan. "It wouldn't be so bad?" he repeated sarcastically.

"Look, I just meant-"

"What has gotten into you, Hermione?" Ron said. "Earlier this year, you went to Pansy Parkinson's marriage-"

"I went to Sean Haydon's marriage!" Hermione said hotly, breaking an egg in bowl. "He invited the whole of my department. Everyone was going-"

"But you went. Harry was invited too, remember? But he didn't."

"Only because Ginny fainted and he had to take her to St. Mungo's." Hermione said exasperatedly. "Come on Ron, how many times are you going to bring this up-"

"Then it was that one time when you let off Zabini for breaking the law about the elves-"

"He didn't break the law." Hermione said, getting angrier by the minute. "The elf had punished himself, on his own, like they are in habit of doing-"

"And then you had also gone to Lucius Malfoy's funeral-"

"I went with the Minister!" Hermione said loudly, finally losing it. "He took me with him. And Harry-"

"Harry's an auror, and he had to make an appearance." Ron said.

"Oh. He had to make an appearance and if I went or did anything pro-slytherin, _what has gotten into_ _you, Hermione_?" She said sarcastically. "We're not in school anymore, Ron, grow up-"

"You know what, I'm not hungry." Ron said dismissively and got up. Hermione turned her back to him angrily to flush the contents of the bowl down the drain in the sink. Ron left through the floo, angrily shouting-"The Burrow!" but till the flames had died completely in the grate, she didn't turn around to face the kitchen. She kept standing there, completely still, trying to calm herself down.

Sometimes she felt like killing him.

As she washed her hands in the sink, letting the water run more than was required, (it always calmed her down, the sound of rushing water) she thought how she will be able to live with him after the marriage. But there was no other option for them, even if they fought like hell; Hermione knew she cannot go anywhere else.

She was just going to leave the kitchen when she heard a tap. She looked at the window, from where the sound had come, and then went and opened it, recognizing Harry's white owl. The bird flew into the room and circled it once before stopping over Hermione in the air.

"What, Hedgwig?" Hermione said. The owl hooted once, and refused to sit down. Instead, it started hovering from place to place.

It took Hermione a moment to clear her head. And then she gasped.

It wasn't Hedgwig- Merlin, Hedgwig had been dead for years- how come she mistook this owl for Hedgwig- but wait, she had seen this owl before.

As the moments passed, Hermione paled. She hadn't just seen this owl; she was the one who had brought it. The motive had been to camouflage the correspondence, so that if anybody saw the owl landing near her and delivering her letters at a daily basis, nobody would suspect. Because Harry had the same kind of bird, except for the grey beak and eyes.

"Salamander," she called softly. The owl gave a hoot and descended down, it was still the same, as stubborn as his master. It landed softly, as it had always done, and Hermione moved forwards in a trance-like walk to touch its beak.

"How are you?" She said, tears gathering in her eyes at the prospect the bird had landed here with. She knew it, she had been expecting it, and there was one part of her which immensely relieved, happy even, to see the bird again after these years. Of course, it wasn't the bird; it was the person behind it.

She looked at the roll tied at its leg, and her heart jumped at the words- _Goran_.

Hermione's hands started shaking. She wasn't sure that she would be able to handle it now. The temptation.

She untied the roll jerkily and opened it. But it was nothing, just the Sunday newspaper in which she and Ron were on the front page. She stared at herself in the picture, kissing Ron. And then she sat down at the kitchen table, feeling weak. Why had he sent it?

But then her heart jumped again when she saw his handwriting.

_He is a lucky man_.

There were those words, right under the picture. And then she saw it. The letter, it was in the picture, in her pyjama pocket. That was why he had sent it. That's why he had sent the newspaper, because he had noticed the letter. Heart racing, she left the kitchen and ran up the stairs. Flinging open her cupboard door, she started searching. Where had she kept it after taking it off that day? But she couldn't find it. Irritated, she pulled down all the contents of the cupboard on the floor for better access. She sifted through them hurriedly, looking for it. And then her eyes landed on her wand on her bed. Why had she, as always, missed the obvious thing to do?

She hesitated for a moment. Then she raised her hand.

"_Accio Draco's letter_."

And from the direction of the laundry room, a folded parchment cam speeding towards her. She caught it, unbelieving, and then looked, as if to check.

There it was, the name he had given her- Goran.

* * *

AN: Hiya! When I was writing this one I was listening to Evansence. Amazing. Anyway, whatch'ya think of this one? Wha' did you get? Tell me, tell me.....


	6. The witness

His writing had not changed much, she noted. When had he sent it? Nine years ago, in fifth year. Hermione hesitated, wondering. He had purposely sent her the newspaper; he had expected her to notice the letter in the picture. He was smart, very smart.

In the year following the end of the war, Draco Malfoy had tried to resume their old communication which they had lost after sixth year. He had written to her several times, on holidays and celebratory events and once, in the middle of the night. They were mostly letters about why he did things the way he had, or what was happening with him those days, they were the days of his trials, Hermione remembered. She never wrote back. She received and read all of them except one, but she never wrote back. At that time she was in a frame of mind so _connected_ _& influenced_ with whatever was happening around her that Hermione could not get herself around to answer him. For a long stretch of ten months, Draco kept up the one-sided letters, and then one day directly asked her to send a reply, which he had never asked. She hadn't. The letters stopped. Nothing came for two months, but then one night, she woke to the incessant tapping on her bedroom window. It had been his owl. She could tell from the letter that he was writing to her when drunk, she could make that out from the handwriting; it was all shaky and large and going slant. He was asking why she was not responding. Why was she ignoring him? Hermione would have answered back at that very moment, hell, she would've gone to him that very moment, she had become so vulnerable, but just then Ron had shifted in her bed, and she had jolted back to awareness. She had sent the owl, (called Salamander after his master) back. A month later, she had received another letter, again in the night. He was not writing in drunkenness, but he was not alright. There were teardrops on the parchment, on the ink, and Hermione had straightaway tossed it in the fire, fearful that she will lose control again. That was five years ago. It had been the night before his trial ended and the wizengamot announced its decision. In the evening newspaper the next day, Hermione had seen pictures of a drunken Malfoy, in front of the ministry, on the evening he had been cleared of all charges. He was holding a bottle of firewwhiskey, and brandishing his middle finger at the camera.

Hermione tried to remember her fifth year with him. It was the year when she and Draco reached the stage when they were able to have simple, long, conversations without one of them storming off. The first time she spoke to him was on the train, when he had been taunting Harry in their compartment.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Those were her first words. And then, "Get out!"

So it had been kind of logical for him to avoid even looking at her during the next days. A feat almost impossible to achieve considering their prefect duties, because Gryffindor and Slytherin had been assigned to perform the prefect duties together for the week.

A week later in September, Hermione was returning from the library one evening. There were only few minutes from the curfew, and she was literally jogging, she took the next turn, and-

"Aiiiiiee-mmff!"

"Shut up, Granger!" Draco Malfoy hissed, looking around nervously, with his hand over Hermione's mouth.

"How dare you-" Hermione jerked herself out of his grip. "_What_ do you think-"

"Keep shut!" He said, slightly louder. "I have not waited for you so that you can rant-"

"I don't even want to talk to you," Hermione snapped, and started moving. "I'm getting late. Unlike you, Draco Malfoy, I do care about standing up to standards of decorum expected from the prefects-"

"Are you always like this?" He sneered, following her.

"Like what?" She snarled.

"Are you always giving lectures? Because if you do, and I think you do, then I really pity Potter, and that red head boyfriend of yours,"

Hermione stopped dead in her track. "_What_?"

He again looked shocked at what had come out of his mouth.

"Ron is not-" Hermione started, but couldn't go any further. Her eyes had landed on the silver and grey 'P' on his chest.

"I'm, Hermione Granger," She said.

When she looked up, Draco Malfoy was looking at her in confusion.

"And, _you're_ Draco Malfoy,"

He was still looking at her in confusion.

Hermione turned away from him and started moving.

"And I cannot believe you just said that." She said, before leaving him standing in the corridor.

That was not the only time she had felt like leaving him, she had felt like leaving many times after that, and sometimes she had felt like punching him when he acted like a prat which was also most of the time. Hermione that day promised herself that she will ignore Malfoy even if he followed her everywhere, but this promise to self failed completely when two days later, he followed her out the Great Hall as she left early for her first class.

Hermione was in the runes corridor when she saw him at far end of it, and she stopped immediately, feeling angry at herself for leaving for class so early. As he was at the end of the corridor, he took his time walking up to her, with that leisured sort of walk that he had, and when he was finally there, Hermione wrenched her mouth open.

"What?"

He smiled slightly, and pushed his hands deep in his robe pockets. "What?" He mimicked.

Hermione felt like slinging her bag at him.

"Would you just say it," she said angrily, "Why you came after me?"

"'Came after you'?" Malfoy had raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't put it quite like that, Granger."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to control herself from shouting.

"So you stopped here," Malfoy continued with a smirk on his face. "Because you were waiting for me to catch up with you?"

Hermione just looked at him.

"How can you be so sure that I was coming this way for you?" He asked arrogantly. Hermione turned away in irritation, inwardly insulting Malfoy.

"Hey!" Malfoy reached out and snatched her hand to stop her.

"Don't touch me!" She said, swatting his arm.

"Don't hit me!" He said, quite loudly, almost like a whiny child.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione snarled. He was going to speak when she spoke, and his expression became a little sheepish. In the background, Hermione noted the sound of several chairs scraping. The breakfast at the hall was over.

"I....." Malfoy seemed to be hesitating.

"Good day, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione said testily, and turned away and started walking as the students started spilling into the corridor. She didn't want to be seen in the public with him, but apparently, he didn't seem to mind.

"Would you stop leaving me while I'm in the middle of a sentence?" He said, back beside her. Hermione stared at him incredously. Students were all around them now, and Hermione had expected him to leave her alone due to the public.

"We're in the public, Malfoy." She said.

He smirked. "Why, do you want to go somewhere private, Granger?"

"Oh, sod off!" Hermione again tried to move, but he again caught her arm.

"Meet me in the east end section of the library at four today." He said in a low voice. Hermione had to strain to hear him.

"Why?" She asked, eyebrows raised, sceptic.

"Just be there." He said arrogantly and let go of her arm. She stared at him as he straightened his robes, and after giving her a 'you better be there' look, he left. Her eyes followed him till he dispersed in the crowd, wondering why he had asked her to meet in the library but just then-

"Hermione?"

"Yes?!" She jumped. But it was just Padma, who took runes with her.

"Are you waiting for someone?" she asked.

"No, no, you?" Hermione asked.

"I was looking for you, but you were not there in the hall-"

"I-I forgot my- book upstairs, and then it started to get late so I came down here straight. Did you come looking for me?"

"No, I came just now and then I saw you standing here-" Hermione's heart jumped. "- I called you, didn't you hear?"

"No, no," Hermione said, relaxing. "I think we should move now, Padma, or else we'll get late."

"Yeah, but I think I didn't get the translations right, did you get your right?"

"I don't know, but maybe, you know, yes......... because all you had to do was apply that formula................."

And so Hermione left for her class finally, thinking that her rendezvous with Malfoy had gone unnoticed. But she herself had not noticed the girl standing on the floor above her, who was looking down, her elbows on the railing. Her eyes followed the bushy haired girl till she went out of sight, and then drew the cigarette between her fingers to her lips and inhale.

"Here,"

She turned her face towards the boy who had just arrived beside her.

"Show me," she said.

The boy stared at her in something what seemed like frustration. She raised an eyebrow. He sighed, and plunged his hand inside the paper bag he had brought for her, and took out a stick as long as a quill.

The girl smiled.

"Thanks, Blaise." She reached for the bag, her other hand touched the boy on the shoulder. The boy visibly tensed as the girl neared him, but then exhaled loudly against her hair as she enveloped him in a hug.

"Still pissed, huh?" The girl asked.

"You're ruining yourself," He said as she withdrew.

"What else can I do?" She said smilingly, taking the bag out of his grip. "Not all of us are as blessed as you, Blaise,"

"You think I'm blessed?" He repeated angrily.

"At least more than me," She said, smoking the cigarette. "You don't have a whiny, mad sister, and a mother who hates you."

_And a father who fucks you_, she added mentally.

"How is Astoria?" Zabini asked. "She met me the other day, said that she wanted to talk to me."

"Astoria is ..." The girl looked away as if looking for words. "Mad about Malfoy."

"That's why she wanted to talk to me?"

"Avoid her for your own mental well-being." The girl said. "She drives me nuts with all that talk about Draco this, Draco that....." She said, making a whiny, shrill kind of voice.

They stayed like that, the girl and the boy, the girl looking up, and the boy looking at her. Then she turned her head towards him.

"What about Draco?" Blaise said immediately.

"You should be answering that." She said, smiling. Blaise looked away, trying to conceal his blush. _She had_ _caught him staring._

"Astoria is going la-la over Draco and Draco is going.................." She trailed away, looking at the spot where the bushy haired girl had stood. Well, what can she do about it?

* * *

AN: Well, here it is. Another chapter. As usual, don't leave any reveiw, okay?


	7. Fuck you, Ginny!

_I'm not writing to say that how I behaved with Potter was wrong or I'm sorry that I did it. In my opinion, Potter is an arse and a walking pile of tosh and nothing in this world, not even you, would be able to change my opinion. _

The letter had started with, as usual, without any addressing word to her. That was the thing she loved about him, Hermione remembered as she touched the letter with her fingertips, his ability to just ignore everything else and come directly to the matter in hand. For others, Draco Malfoy's way of writing would have been comparable to as if writing to a nameless stranger whom you've never met, and even quite formal or aloof, but Hermione loved it. She didn't feel the need to write dear this or dear that before the starting of a letter, the lack of the word or even her name made the whole thing intimate, as if the people knew each other so much that they didn't need to perform any addressing start to each other, as if they already knew that whatever they had was meant for each other.

_I am writing because I want us to resume talking again. I don't think we should let anyone, nor your gryffindors nor the slytherins I spend my time with, let effect our behaviour with each other because I think even you are aware how difficult it has been. _

What, Hermione had thought at the time, what has been difficult? She knew the answer now, the relationship they had achieved; it had been very difficult to achieve that.

_I value the times we spend together more than that moronic gryffindor of yours and do not want to let it all go waste. Thus I am writing to say sorry if I have hurt your feelings in any way possible by my actions. I am not sorry of my behaviour with Potter at the quidditch match, but I will be sorry if you did not speak to me. And I know you will too._

Though Hermione had not admitted to herself at that time, the letter had looked like Draco had a crush on her. Things which happened later evidently pointed in that direction in the following months, and much later, Hermione spent the whole of sixth year controlling herself from getting tempted by him, and there were some times when she came dangerously close of letting herself go, but at the same time she had been battling with her feelings for Ron (who was being a complete arsehole at the time, just like now).

And so, nine years later, when Hermione had thought that the past was a past and all it did was haunt you occasionally and that too just in your dreams, irony set in work again and the past came back (or maybe forward) to become her present again. And thus, nine years later, Hermione Granger found herself sitting in the office of the person which could bring potential disasters in her life (as he himself was a disaster, ready to ruin her), as she thought deep thoughts such as 'your past catches up with you' and the like when suddenly, after a knock, her past entered the room hurriedly.

"Sorry, I'm late." Draco Malfoy said, half breathless.

Hermione did not look up in anger at him, as she had done in fifth year when he had asked her to meet him in the library for the first time and he had not arrived on time.

"I just came," She lied, suddenly feeling like running away from the room. Draco Malfoy, still panting a little, came into her view as he went round the table to seat himself. Hermione still did not look up, and Draco did not speak till she did. And when she did, she caught that look in his eyes before it went away with a blink, the look that told her his eyes feasted on her.

"Hudson told me you have been here for twenty minutes." He said, quietly contradicting her.

"It doesn't feel like that," Hermione countered.

For a moment, after he had sat down, he just panted or breathed deeply or whatever staring at her folded hands all the while and she focused on the table, trying to ignore the pounding of blood in her ears. She wondered whether it was the same for him, before he spoke.

"So," His voice came out in a rasp. Hermione looked up immediately. He cleared his throat once before speaking again.

"So, what did Brusly tell you?" He asked, wishing not to sound breathless.

"He told me to see you," Hermione said, then coloured slightly. "Because you had all the information."

"Well, yes," Draco said, unable to take his eyes off her. "I do, I do have the information but, but you need to tell me what you know of the case."

Hermione sat up straighter and opened the folder on her lap. "I collected all the information I could, which mostly comes from newspaper clippings about Belinda Baker, and the half-blood husband she had left, which had been published before and after the date of the crime."

She looked up to see him staring at her. She looked down again, her ears starting to feel hotter.

"Apart from the information that I have gathered about Baker, there is nothing else that I have been told."

"What do you want?" Draco asked, his voice rasping again.

Hermione answered immediately, trying to ignore his reaction. "I want all the case details that Mr. Brusly said you would be having, Mr. Malfoy-"

Draco let out a shaky laugh. Hermione stopped speaking apprehensively.

"Back to square one?" He said smilingly, and leaned back in his chair. Hermione looked down to her notes before looking up again, trying to keep herself from getting affected by him or at least _not_ let it show that she was getting affected.

"I have to build a report on this case till the week end, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione said, refusing to look up. And when she did, she saw the way he was looking at her. Those blue-gray eyes, so intense and speaking on their own that his silence also seemed to be telling her that _I see through you_........

Hermione got up immediately, unable to sit there anymore.

"I will be in my office,"

As Hermione Granger left him again, this time for a completely different reason than the usual irritation she experienced with him, she remembered that night after the day he had sent her the letter. She had not been speaking to him after he had misbehaved with Harry and the Weasleys at the quidditch game, and though in the beginning he tried to show that he didn't give a damn about it, but of course, by the time the week came to an end, his resolve was over.

She had been doing the rounds that night as it was gryffindor's duty that week. It was ten in the night, and she was on the fourth floor, just a few minutes away from the room of requirement. Up till now, she had not seen anyone save for a snogging hufflepuff sixth year couple who scarpered when she opened the broom cupboard. Draco had sent her a letter, but she had not responded, and she had ignored him the whole day. He had tried to catch her eye during Potions, during Care of Magical Creatures, and even during lunch, but she ignored him nevertheless.

Hermione looked at the watch. It was ten-thirty now. Deciding to get back to Gryffindor tower, she turned back to take the stairs only to find Draco right behind her. She squealed lightly before stumbling back a few steps.

"Hi," He said cheerfully.

Hermione glared at him.

"Why do you do this?" She asked angrily.

"Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that," She answered, side-stepping him. "One day I will end up hexing you in reflex action."

"Why have you been ignoring me the whole day?" Draco asked, walking beside her now.

"I am still ignoring you, Malfoy," Hermione said coolly. "I spoke now just to warn you."

"Oh come on, Hermione." Draco said, stopping in his tracks and taking her arm. "How can you be still ticked off at me?"

"And how can you ask me this stupid question?"

"Listen I'm sorry if I have hurt you in any way!" Draco called after her as she snatched her arm free and resumed walking.

Hermione did not answer but just kept on walking. This, however, just angered him further.

"Listen," He said, catching up with her again. "Why are you so intent on spoiling everything because of one moron-"

"_You_ are the moron!" Hermione turned fiercely. "Harry did _not _start this! You started this! And now you come to me and you're not even sorry about-"

"Listen-" He put up his hands urgently.

"No _you_ listen!" She cut across him. "How can you come to me expecting me to just welcome you with open arms-"

"Listen!" He said, again, his voice more urgent and low.

"I don't want to listen to anything-" Hermione said, turning around to leave but Draco didn't let her. He snatched her hand and pulled, Hermione squealed again at the force but that was all she could do as he pulled open the door of a classroom, pushed her in, and shut the door swiftly.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, seriously scared now.

"Shut up," He said roughly, tapping the door once with his wand.

"Draco, you cannot-" Hermione started in a slightly higher voice, but he moved quickly. He seized her arm, and as she tried to move away, took hold of her waist and pushed her against the door. She tried to protest and opened her mouth but he covered her mouth with his palm and pushed himself bodily against her shoulders.

"Shh," He said.

Hermione waited with baited breath, cursing herself for ever being able to trust Draco Malfoy completely. He was a boy, after all, and boys could be...............well, hormonal or something. Hermione blushed, just thinking about it.

At that very moment it became clear why Draco had behaved like that when she heard voices. It seemed to be a couple, speaking softly to each other. Then the girl let out a laugh and Hermione realised with a jolt that it was Ginny, with that boy she had just started going out with.

Draco had also seemed to recognise her as he was looking at the door with his eyebrows raised. What is it with guys, Hermione thought, looking at his expression, that they cannot see any girl whom they have seen grow up with, get romantic with anyone. Would it be the same for him with me, she wondered, looking at his eyelashes, if he ever saw me with Ron, or was this why Ron was acting so stupid at the Yule ball last year when she was there with Viktor..............wow, Draco had really pretty eyelashes..........

"Merlin!" He exclaimed suddenly, looking at the door.

Hermione raised her eyebrows to say- what? as Draco looked at her with eyes full of disbelief.

"Don't you listen?" He whispered. But Hermione couldn't listen to anything, how he managed to listen to intricate sound when she didn't, did he have bat ears- and then she heard it.

It was a small moan.

Hermione's face, under Draco's hand, went hot.

Apparently, Ginny and her new boyfriend had decided to halt in the middle of the corridor, to snog, and they couldn't have chosen any other place to do that, but the very door of the classroom where Hermione was hidden with Malfoy.

Though she didn't want too, but her eyes automatically looked up in reflex, to find Draco looking down on her. He had the same look like the night of the Yule ball, and from what she could see the dim light, he was staring at her lips.

And then, almost automatically, Hermione, too, parted her lips.

* * *

I know, I know, you're wondering where have I been? Sorry for updating after such a long period, but I couldn't help it, I was busy studying. My twelfth std boards are coming - they're like NEWTS. I would love to hear from you of what you think of my progress so far. Toodles!


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